Writing Prompt: The rocks were worn smooth from the water.

Morning all. There is always something strange about waking up in a world swallowed by fog. I always feel half asleep even though I am not (I am actually kind of awake this morning) and part of it makes me think alien planets. It always makes me want to write. Maybe because the world around me is so blurry and reality so indistinct. Whatever the cause it is time for the morning writing prompt. So timers at the ready and off we go. Fifteen minutes no stopping to think or edit

I like this one. I started out thinking I was just going to focus on setting and now I am wondering who is being chased and why. Not a bad start for a Tuesday.

Tuesday, August 15^th: The rocks were worn smooth from the water.

The rocks were worn smooth from the water.  The riverbed was wide and deep.  It appeared to be slow moving but I knew from experience there was a swift and strong current running through the deeper sections.  While the stones at the river’s edges were smooth and rounded, there were sharper, harder things towards the deeper patches so I did not give into the temptation to take off my boots and feel the smooth rocks under my feet as I usually did in the summertime. 

Then I was wading in the shallows.  Today I was crossing.

I grit my teeth. All was quiet behind me, Well, devoid of people anyway.  My presence caused nature to quiet around me, but resume its noise behind me.  I knew if the others came after me, the sounds of the woods would stop.  It would be too late then.  I needed to be gone before they came towards the river looking for me.  I needed to be safe on the other side, my passage hidden, and my path unclear to those following. 

‘At least it isn’t the wet season.’ I thought to myself as I struck out through the water.  I knew the pull of the current would naturally tug me down stream, but there was a good landing spot, a stone filled area that baked in the sun all day and where the wetness from my river exit would quickly dry in the sun in a matter of minutes. 

The shallows were easy going but soon I was deep enough to feel the current start to tug at me.  Each step I moved forward I found myself slightly pushed down river.  With both feet planted I could maintain.  With only one foot I wasn’t stable enough to resist the current. 

‘As long as I don’t overshoot the exit,’ I reminded myself. ‘It will be fine.’

While I didn’t go into the deeper spots that I knew from experience lurked in places, the water reached my belly button.   I remembered the holes, spotting the rock formations that marked them and hoped that those who followed would have no such markers, no such memory.

I tried not to think about them as I crossed.  For now, it was me and the river.  I could worry about all else later. I moved past the deeper sections and felt the water level slowly drop down.  I could feel the rounded cocks of the shallows.  I saw the exit from the river and splashed my way to it.  As I did, I realized that the noise of the river made me deaf to the forest beyond.  Knowing it would do me no good to look back, I kept going.  My course was committed. 

I made it out of the water and splashed to shore, rivulets of water streaming from me as I left the river’s embrace.  I made it to the hottest part of the shore where giant boulders thrown up from the depths of the earth long ago now baked in the sun.  They were great gray masses and the water from my passage almost sizzled as it hit them, disappearing quickly.

I allowed myself a small tight smile.  My passage would be hidden.  ‘As long as I get out of sight,’ I reminded myself.  I slipped into the cover of the woods and only then did I allow myself the luxury of looking backwards.

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